It's not finished, but...
Oct. 31st, 2005 06:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maderrI'm not going to get to again until December, and I hate making things wait. Plus, I can see if anyone still cares?
This was, I think, the first original-ish story I ever attempted. It predates even Rainbow by like a couple of weeks, and somewhere it fell to the side. I'd meant to have all eight chapters completed, but like I said it'll be ages before I'm able to get back to it now. It hasn't been beta'ed, so feel free to correct stuff in you're inclined. I think ki-chan pointed some errors out once but I forgot to go back and make them ^^
Just for kicks, and b/c Midsummer won't be up 'til I get home tonight. Alas, only the fourth part is new. I think only my early readers would even remember this story. For those not familiar with the game, The Palace of Keys is awesome. I highly reccomend getting into it. Of course, me being me, when I first chose mine I went for the one that sounded the most interesting and got stuck with a truly unique key. I think I was a bit intimidated. Heh.
Will email to the proper person when it's been edited.
Description of the Chimaera Key
Sweet, pungent incense permeated the small chamber, soaking into the silks and velvets that draped the walls and covered the fine hardwood floor. A slight figure knelt before an impressive altar of the god Zeus, the focal point of the room. The statue was at least two feet high, carved in such precise and exquisite detail it seemed to be made of flesh rather than white marble. The room was small but richly appointed. All around the perimeter and beside the statue were fine beeswax candles, adding to the illusion that the statue was real rather than cold stone.
The kneeling figure was praying, his murmurs were barely audible. Snow-white hair, as fine as corn silk, dusted his neck and fell forward across his down-tilted face. His hands were clasped tightly together, and held so close to his face that his lips occasionally brushed them as they soundlessly chanted the prayers. He was young looking, no more than eighteen or so, his face as beautifully shaped as the statue to which he prayed. But beneath his prettiness there seemed to lurk a shadow, as if something haunted him or weighed him down. Even his eyes, a stunning blue that seemed to be a mix of lightning and water, seemed dim.
Anger and despair mixed in the young man's face as he lifted it to regard the statue of Zeus. His prayers had faded, as if he were giving them up for hopeless. But the sadness that haunted him only made him more beautiful, the anger making it sharper. He let his hands fall to his lap, a tear falling slowly down his cheek as he sat in the small chamber. Eventually, he began heavily to rise from his kneeling position.
Then the candles went out.
A soft gasp escaped pale pink lips, and the man resumed his earlier position. Two small beads of light shone in the dark room, gradually growing in intensity. The young man realized the eyes of the statue were glowing, burning brighter and brighter until a hot, white light consumed the room.
More tears fell down his face as he once more clasped his hands. His voice was less despondent, more hopeful, as he resumed speaking. The words he spoke were not English. A few might recognize them as resembling Greek, but no mortal had ever spoken this form of that language.
"Sacred Father, hear my pleas. I beg you to release me from this torment. Should death be my only recourse, I will gladly take it. Only do not leave me with these mortals a day more. Please, my Father, I beg of you."
As he finished speaking, a voice of soft thunder resonated in his head, seeming somehow to come from the statue with glowing eyes. Precious child, forgive my long absence. I was loath to answer your prayers before I could offer you a solution.
"Does…does that mean you can set me free?"
You know that is not within my power, precious Pegasus. Foolish as it was, the pact made between the Muses and the mortals who hold you was binding. I cannot break it. However…the circumstances of your current master can work to your advantage, if you exploit the opportunity.
"I…I do not understand."
A Key will be offered to you. Take it, Pegasus. Use it to your advantage; the Key is more than he realizes.
"A key, Father? What do you mean?"
But the voice was gone, as the white light began to fade slowly away. A moment later the room was dark, and then the warm yellow light of the candles returned.
Wiping the traces of tears from his pale skin, Pegasus rose slowly to his feet and left the room. Emerging in a long hallway dripping with gold and crystal, he dazedly made his way back to his room.
Reaching his bedchamber, he immediately padded to the window seat on the far side of it, curling up against the glass and stared unseeing at the view outside.
Outside, the sun was a deep, burning red set in a sky of orange, pink and purple, the faintest tinges of blue fighting against the pending darkness. The ocean over which the villa looked was a mass of churning black, and Pegasus turned away to sit with his back pressed to the still warm glass. His thoughts were on what Zeus had said, and he tried and failed to make sense of the bizarre words.
He was interrupted in his musings by the opening and closing of his door. Shoving his thoughts away to mull over later, Pegasus slid from his seat to kneel on the floor. "Good evening, my Lord Theodore."
Theodore Arkipus was sleek and handsome in a magazine sort of way, his tailored suit as dark as the churning ocean outside. His dark green tie matched his eyes, the gold in his ears directing attention to the thick, black curls that so elegantly framed his impeccable face. He frowned at the kneeling Pegasus; he seldom looked happy when he came to visit the divine slave.
For no matter how he humiliated the creature, no matter what he made him do or beg for, the pale, beautiful young man always retained an air of pride and dignity that Theodore could not beat out of him. He hated it.
Pegasus remained motionless.
Even when Theodore backhanded him did he barely move. "Well, Pegasus. It would seem the Lord Zeus has begun to tire of having his most precious servant in the hands of mortals." Pegasus remained silent, motionless, and Theodore continued. "The family fortunes are not what they once were, and my attempts to restore them have proven successful."
Still Pegasus said nothing. He had learned to remain silent.
"Zeus has agreed to restore our fortunes - for a price."
Barely breathing, Pegasus waited.
"That price being a brief reprieve for you." Theodore laughed coldly. "I guess since it is impossible for him to demand your freedom outright. After all," he yanked Pegasus to his feet, and ran his fingers over the pale skin left bare by a loose wrap You belong to me, and cannot be released unless I choose to remove this." He tugged lightly at the collar wrapped almost too tightly around his throat; it looked as though it was made of solid gold, but was as supple as leather. He yanked the divine servant closer. "So I will grant you what the Lord Zeus has demanded. If he wants you to go to the Palace, then to the Palace you shall go."
Utterly confused, Pegasus never the less remained silent. Theodore nodded, almost as if he approved. He began to strip Pegasus of his garments. "But that won't be until tomorrow, servant, and I've had a very long, very trying day. Why not demonstrate how grateful you are that I am granting you a 'vacation'?" He bent his head to kiss Pegasus, lips hard and bruising against Pegasus' much softer ones. His hands, though soft from a life of luxury, were rough as they greedily roamed soft flesh then shoved Pegasus in the direction of the bed.
Shoving away his private thoughts and feelings, Pegasus let himself be pressed into the sheets and set to work pleasing his master. Silently he prayed for the night to go by quickly, that the morning would arrive and bring his temporary freedom with it.
"Hurry up, Pegasus. I haven't got all day." Theodore stalked across a lavish courtyard and quickly up wide marble steps. Several steps behind, Pegasus lingered to examine the the white marble building that made him think of the home he’d not seen in decades. Carved into the arch over the entry way were the words Myth and Magic. Theodore called hisname again, and Pegasus forced his curiosity aside. But his eyes wandered as they walked, increasingly impressed with the splendor of the place, splendor fine enough to rival even Olympus.
Inside, the lobby continued the marble theme, but across the floor were scattered thick oriental carpets. Skylights in the ceiling brought the colors of the rich carpets to life. The room seemed to stretch on indefinitely.
To the right of the entrance was a long counter, chest high and made from some strange dark wood. Myth and Magic appeared here too, scrolled neatly in gold across the front of the counter. The two men approached, and found themselves greeted by a smiling face.
Behind the counter was a man who looked to be in his mid-twenties or so. His dark hair lay close against his head in tight curls, though a few locks strayed into his deep blue eyes, and he seemed to be laughing at some private joke as he greeted the two men. A small gold caduceus hung from a slender chain around his neck. "Good morning, Lord Theodore. We have been expecting you. You have the appropriate ID?"
Acknowledging the man's words with little more than a slight sneer, Theodore reached briefly into his coat before tossing two cards onto the countertop. The first was a passport and this the desk man examined briefly. The second he picked up to examine more closely. It resembled a credit card, made from black plastic. Across the bottom half of it ran four thin bands of color: red, lavender, amber, silver. Typed across the top in gold print was "M & M: Chimaera 389 1315 181.” In smaller print directly beneath that was Theodore’s name.
Nodding slightly, the man swiped the card on a small device placed beside his computer. Watching the screen, he nodded again when the computer indicated that all was correct. Handing the passport and card back to Theodore, he then turned to face the back wall. A painting hung there, but before Pegasus could examine it, the dark haired man swung it forward, like a door. A safe was revealed, and the young man rapidly punched in a long code A couple of minutes later and he withdrew a small velvet pouch, lavender in color. This he handed to Theodore. “How long will you be staying, sir?”
Theodore laughed. “I will not be staying.” He indicated Pegasus, and the dark haired man finally turned his attention to the silent figure standing just behind Theodore. Pegasus stared back, eyes narrowed in confusion. They widened in surprise when the man winked. Theodore seemed not to have noticed. “My…companion here will be staying for one month. He is not to leave the premises, and I am to be informed if he tries. I will retrieve him at the end of his stay. Is that understood?”
The man only nodded. “Of course, sir. Whatever you wish.” He turned to address Pegasus. “If you will come with me sir, I will show you the way to your room. Your Key awaits.”
Theodore’s smile was cold as he tossed the velvet pouch at his frowning Servant. “Enjoy your stay, Pegasus.” Turning, he returned the way they’d come. Pegasus watched pensively as he departed, uncertain of how to act or feel. A soft hand on his shoulder recalled him, and he looked up into the face of the dark haired man.
“Shall we be going, Pegasus? You won’t find freedom standing here.” He grinned, eyes laughing.
“Trickster. Does noble Zeus know you are here?” Pegasus frowned, though his lips twitched with the desire to smile.
“Don’t insult me. Zeus will know where I am when I want him to know. I just thought I’d come say hello. I’ve tried before, but there are only so many “legitimate” ways to get inside that damned fortress your Teddy calls a home. And Zeus wouldn’t let me try the other ways. Something about breaking the rules.”
“This isn’t breaking the rules, Hermes?” Pegasus was quickly forgetting his fatigue as he smiled faintly up at his old friend.
“Hey, I work here. It’s just happy coincidence. Now come on, mustn’t keep your Key waiting. Which reminds me, I should warn you…” He turned to walk toward the end of the entryway, headed for the large double doors that led deeper into the strange building. He walked slowly, a nervous frown on his face.
Pegasus’ partial smile froze. “Warn me about what? What’s going to happen now? And what is all this Key business”
“Look, it’s not like that—wait, Teddy didn’t explain the Palace to you?” Hermes looked even more concerned.
The shorter man glared up at the mischievous god. “Hermes, Lord Theodore explains nothing to me. Ever. What is going on? Just once, I would like a straight answer.”
Hermes halted at the end of a long hallway. The walls were black, and the light from the small fixtures on the walls and ceiling helped little. The floor was covered in large tiles, alternating in colors of red, lavender, amber, and silver. Hermes had halted their progress in front of a door, the same color as the walls, with a quatrefoil at eye level, each of the four sections painted in one of the four colors from the tiled floor. Turning to face Pegasus, he indicated the velvet pouch clutched in the shorter figures hand. “The door only opens with the Key in that bag. It belongs to Theodore, and for now to you. Now, about the Palace…”
“I think I can guess by this point. Honestly, there’s only so many things a place like this can be. I’ve done it long enough myself have I not?” His voice was bitter, and Hermes remained silent for a moment.
“At any rate, Pegs, my warning was that you probably won’t care much for the room. Each Key has a theme—I haven’t told you what this Key’s theme is for a reason.” he motioned toward the pouch held lightly in Pegasus’ fist. “Just try to remember that this is your only chance to return home, all right?” Hermes bent forward to brush a light kiss across Pegasus’ cheek. “See you in a month; we’ll throw you a grand party.” With a wave Hermes was gone.
Pegasus stared at the door, not quite glaring. He shifted his attention to the pouch still clutched in his hand, pulling the drawstring loose and dumping the contents into his other hand. A key lay there, about the length of his index finger. Black in color, the top was the same quatrefoil design as that of the door, each segment filled in with a jewel: ruby, amethyst, amber and diamond. Grimacing, Pegasus fit the key to the lock and turned.
The door opened with ease and Pegasus stepped inside, allowing the door to swing shut behind him. His gaze was immediately caught by the ceiling that towered above him, far higher than it needed to be. Dropping his gaze, he found himself caught by the image on the far wall.
The northern wall directly opposite him was taken up completely by a painting of the Chimaera of legend, a creature that was part lion, part goat and part snake. The goat’s head was thrown back, flames pouring from its mouth. The snake and lion heads were raised high, displaying a strong pride and eagerness for battle. His gaze trailed away, taking in the sky blue tone of the eastern wall and the impressive fireplace set into the center of it. There was no fire lit at present, but the ashes and soot indicated frequent usage.
Directly across, the western wall boasted a cityscape that was nothing short of spectacular. The lower portion was life size, right down to a door that looked real enough to open up and step through. The city trailed back from the lower portion, carrying on toward a horizon where the rest of it was lost.
Pegasus turned to examine the rest of the room. Looking up, past the door he had come through, he let out a soft, pained gasp. He could only stare, frozen. Sudden tears trailed unnoticed down his cheek.
The painting on the southern wall was an image of the Chimaera’s slayers, as proud and battle-hungry as the figure on the opposite wall. The mighty horse stood with wings flared, a painted sun shining down on his pristine white wings. Beside him stood the strong, beautiful figure of Bellerophon. Pegasus noted with a twist of his heart that the image was true—that was his Bellerophon, as if he had stood for the portrait himself. No wonder Hermes said I would not care for this room.
With a faint cry Pegasus turned away, stumbling in the opposite direction in a blind attempt to get away from the image of his first Master. He was halted by the touch of a soft hand on his shoulder, which kept him from colliding with the statue he hadn’t noticed.
How he had missed the statue in the center of room, he didn’t know. Standing directly beneath the high glass ceiling was a replica of the most famous rendition of his ancient enemy, the Chimaera. The faintest rays of early morning sunlight spilled through the glass ceiling, giving the bronze a soft shine. Looking away, he turned his attention to the hand that had stopped him.
What in Zeus’ name is this creature? His eyes drifted briefly back to the statue, then back down at the strange creature kneeling below it. Some sort of Chimaera? That’s impossible. “Who are you?” He slowly approached the figure, which he could just see was male.
His voice was even, almost soothing. Pegasus was somewhat startled as the young man began to speak; he spoke in Latin. “I am called Chimaera.” The creature seemed to hesitate a moment, “Are you alright, Master?”
Pegasus could only stare, barely hearing the so-called Chimaera’s words. For all the centuries he had existed, the countless beasts and demons he had both slain and served, never had he seen a creature such as this.
Chimaera’s skin was black, as rich and pure as the finest India ink. Well-shaped, pointed ears peeked out of lavender hair, and Pegasus wondered if it felt like the watered silk it resembled. Narrowing his eyes at the unwelcome thought, he continued his perusal. A royal blue shirt just barely clung to his shoulders, showing off the bronze collar around his throat. Long slits in billowing sleeves only bared more of the creature’s rich, dark skin. Dark red pants flowed loosely over his legs, stopping just short of draping over the eastern style sandals on his feet.
Eyes drawn briefly toward the sandal and foot, Pegasus noticed without surprise that Chimaera didn’t have toenails—he had claws. Short but finely pointed silver claws. Eyes straying toward the hand that slowly lifted from his shoulder, he noticed the same was true of his fingernails. Interesting…where did such a creature come from? His eyes widened slightly as he caught movement from behind Chimaera and realized the creature had a lion’s tail.
Allowing his eyes to trail upward, Pegasus only briefly met the eyes staring calmly back at him—eyes the very red that gave bloodstones their name. Ignoring the gaze, Pegasus examined the feature that had first made him gasp. Wings sprouted from the Chimaera’s back, but they were mismatched. The right wing resembled a bird’s, colored a fierce, burning red. The left wing called to mind a monarch butterfly, the black and gold pattern varied only in that the placement of the colors was reversed.
Pegasus stepped closer, returning his gaze to look the figure in the eyes. It was harder to gauge with that dark skin, but he appeared to be young, only about eighteen or so. “You really are a Chimaera, aren’t you?” He spoke smoothly in Latin, noticing relief flash across Chimaera’s face.
“Yes, Master.”
“…Master? Do not call me that, it is not right.” Pegasus frowned as he realized this was the second time the strange young man had used the word to address him.
Chimaera only nodded. “As you wish.”
“Where are you from? Did Theodore bring you here? ” Pegasus frowned at the thought of Theodore owning yet another unique being, though it did not surprise him to see that Theodore kept pleasures such as this around.
“Theodore? I do not know of whom you speak.” Chimaera spoke softly, his calm tone never changing.
Pegasus looked at him, genuinely shocked, “Theodore is the one who owns you.”
Chimaera reached out a slender hand to tap the forgotten key in Pegasus’ palm with a silver claw. “My last owner was unable to adjust to my appearance. You are the first Master I have had since.”
Pegasus frowned, displeased. “I told you—I am no Master. To call me such is insulting.” His temper faded as Chimaera murmured an apology. Reaching out, he reached out to clasp one of Chimaera’s dark hands, causing the red eyes to look up once again. “My apologies Chimaera, I am unused to such treatment. My name is Pegasus, just call me that for now.”
Though the dark-skinned young man was not overly tall, Pegasus had to smile as he saw that Chimaera was still taller than he. The sunlight pouring in from the ceiling had increased slightly, though it was still far too early for there to be much.
Releasing Chimaera’s hand, Pegasus looked around the room again. Beneath the fierce image of Chimaera was an inviting looking bed, the violet coverlet patterned with a familiar quatrefoil motif. Standing in indecision Pegasus sighed softly as he rubbed a hand against his suddenly aching head. He turned back to Chimaera, who still stood motionlessly behind him. “Would you mind if I took a nap, Chimaera?”
He received a polite nod. “Whatever you wish.”
Pegasus stared a moment, then started laughing. It was choked and tinged with sadness, but laughter all the same. He didn’t notice Chimaera jump slightly at the strange sound. “Whatever I wish, hmm? That’s not right, not right at all. But it’s different, so for now I’ll take it.” Striding toward the bed, Pegasus took only enough time to discard his light coat and shoes before throwing himself into bed.
The last thing he noticed before drifting off was that the sheets didn’t smelled nice, like flowers and spice. Not of Theodore.
Chimaera stood over the bed, a hand hovering uncertainly over the head of the sleeping figure. Unable to help himself, he finally lowered his hand to run it gently through strands of pale hair. Silver claws combed through the thick mass idly as he frowned in thought. Pegasus…that’s a strange name to give someone…Raising his eyes, Chimaera gazed up at the painting directly opposite the bed, which depicted Bellerophon and his devoted winged horse. His eyes lingered on the horse, which stood protectively beside its master, flared wings almost painfully bright in the sun burning down on the legendary heroes.
Gaze returning to his sleeping master, Chimaera examined him more closely. He had been too surprised earlier to take much notice—it wasn’t often a master so calmly accepted his appearance, and he’d never been reprimanded for referring to an owner as “Master.”
He was short, that much he’d noticed earlier. Between the two of them, there really wasn’t much in the way of height. His skin was fair, now that he was asleep—it had been sickeningly pale earlier, when Pegasus had started crying. His hair resembled that of another master he’d once had, though Pegasus’ was thicker, and a cleaner white. Chimaera remembered his eyes— a bright, bold blue.
Trailing his lightly down the sleeping man’s face, he let his fingers linger on the gold collar around his throat. The collar was thick, and seemed to be cinched rather snuggly around his neck. It feels like leather, but it looks like solid gold. He stroked the leather with a thumb, again looking up to the portrait on the opposite wall--where a gold bridle was visible against stark white. But why would Pegasus be here?
Pulling back his hand, Chimaera moved away from the bed and toward the immense cityscape. Approaching one of the life-size, painted windows, he reached out to lift a well-concealed latch and swung open the disguised doors. Inside the cabinet were many books, ranging in subject but mostly focusing on modern history. They varied in language, from Latin to Italian to English. Selecting one written in English, he closed the cabinet and turned to head for his usual reading spot. But halfway to the statue he hesitated, looking back toward the bed. I should probably stay close - he'll be confused when he first wakes up.
Circling around to the opposite side of the bed Chimaera gingerly climbed onto it, settling back against plush, violet pillows. Opening his book to where he'd left off last time, the recounting of some major war in Europe. But his eyes and mind kept straying to the slender figure beside him, infinitely more interesting than the contents of his book.
Pegasus' chest role and fell gently, soft breaths just barely audible as he exhaled. Chimaera was fascinated. He hadn't been at the palace very long, only a few years perhaps - it was hard to tell sometimes. Ten masters so far, and all of them had been larger than he. Most had been pleasant, Chimaera had learned and enjoyed a great deal with them. But one had been incapable of adjusting to his appearance (despite explicit warnings that he was strange), and one… his gaze strayed briefly toward the fireplace, which remained empty in the daylight hours. One had ended rather badly.
Shaking off the unhappy thought, Chimaera resumed watching Pegasus. Slowly closing his book, he shifted his gaze again - toward the painting on the far wall. Bellerophon and Pegasus stared fiercely back at him, ready to attack. His eyes dropped to the statue in the middle of the room.
"Elias, isn't it beautiful?" His mother smiled brightly as she looked from sculpture to son.
Elias looked up from his book, carefully examining his mother's work. His brown eyes were bright as he returned her smile. "It's exceptional, mama. You are truly the best there is.”
She laughed delightedly. "Yes, I am. Though only because I somehow managed to create a masterpiece such as you. Next to you, this is second rate. Which makes it more than adequate for the buyer." She clapped her hands, "Now, come help your mother clean up and then I'll show you what she plans to do with all the money she's getting for Aphrodite here."
Elias quirked a brow, "Have you paid off all the bills yet, mama? We can not stall on them for much longer…"
Flapping her hands impatiently, the woman replied, "Yes, yes, darling. I've already subtracted all that from the commission. Everything is taken care of. Didn't I tell you it would be, once I finished the goddess here?" She turned again to look at her completed sculpture, the goddess Aphrodite perched on a garden bench, temping the mortals who would pass by her in the garden of the lord who had commissioned her. "I am almost sorry to see her go but I can not sculpt without shelter and food. As you often remind me."
"I am fond of you, mama, so I prefer that you stay alive." Elias smiled gently at his mother as he began to move around the disordered studio, setting things to right and clearing away the masses of dust left over from his mother's work. They worked in comfortable silenc, until at last they stood in the midst of a clean studio.
"There.” Elias grinned. "Clean until you destroy again tomorrow."
His mother reached out to ruffle his hair, then strode over to a small table against the back wall. She lifted up a heavy piece of sketching paper, "Yes, but look at what will be wrought from that destruction." Her eyes glowed with excitement. "Isn't it marvelous? It will eclipse everything.”
"Chimaera? Mother, you are obsessed. What's so interesting about that poor beast to you?”
Fervently the woman traced the lines of the sketch, "What's so interesting? You know why I like him so much. It's not like sculpting a person or a creature - you have to capture the likeness of several, all forced to be one. A goat, a lion…there's so much there, and they have to blend harmoniously or the image falls apart. Just wait; when I am finished they will beg me to display it in the town square. Finally they'll see I'm an artist, not just a woman.. They'll worship it. Even the gods will be jealous."
"Mother!"
"What?" She blinked in confusion up at her son, then shrugged. "I meant nothing by it, darling. You know how badly I want to be acknowledged. It took everything I had to win the Aphrodite job. If that stupid codger had said but one more thing against me…" She fumed in silence a moment, and then shook her head. "It hardly matters, I did get it. And now I'll have enough money to create the Chimaera. Then you and I can settle into a large, comfortable home and want for nothing."
"I am happiest here with you, mama."
"I know, my treasure. But I want better for you." Taking the sketch, and setting it aside, she smoothed her dusty robes and neatened her hair. "Now, let's go find supper. I’m famished and I’m sure you are as well. Perhaps some wine as well, to celebrate…”
"Yes, mama…"
A soft groaning sound interrupted Chimaera's memories, and he jerked his head down to stare into sleep-clouded blue eyes. Pegasus moaned again, eyes fluttering as he slowly struggled to sit up. "Where…"
"Pegasus. Are you well?"
Pegasus stared up at him, face as serious as it had been before he'd gone to sleep. "You are Chimaera?"
"Yes. Do you fee better? You were greatly upset before you went to sleep."
"No, I do not feel much better. But I am rested, that is worth something."
"Would you like something to eat?" Chimaera stared at him, red eyes intent but soft.
Soft white hair fluttered around his head as he shook it, "No, I am fine…but if you are hungry, please feel free to eat." He slid from the bed, barely noticing as Chimaera trailed after him. He stood before the painting of Bellerophon and Pegasus, his expression once again tight. Behind him Chimaera drew a breath, as if to speak.
"Does the painting bother you? You can order it removed."
Pegasus laughed, though there was little humor in it. "No, I cannot. This place is…on loan? I guess you could say. Besides, I have the feeling this entire room is the key to my freedom." He unconsciously lifted a hand to stroke the gold wrapped around his throat.
Chimaera hesitated, watching the fingers stroke the gold that felt so much like soft leather. "Forgive me….Master…but are you…are you the actual Pegasus?"
Pegasus turned his brilliant blue eyes on the black-skinned creature, "…I am…but how come you to realize it? Few ever realize it. But I guess you are hardly ordinary yourself.”
"Mortal? No, I am not. As to how I realized it…it is not so hard. The golden bridle still binds you, and no other would have such reason to cry as you.”
Pegasus' voice was bitter. “The first of many Masters. Do you know the tale of Bellerophon?”
"Of course. Bellerophon was given the noble winged horse Pegasus, born from Medusa when her head was cut from her neck. Together they battled and defeated the terrible Chimaera, and many other creatures besides. But Bellerophon grew arrogant and tried to ascend to Mt. Olympus. Zeus sent a gadfly to sting Pegasus, and Bellerophon plunged to his death."
Pegasus began to laugh, the sound a mix of genuine amusement and lingering sadness. "What a pretty tale."
Chimaera was silent.
Pegasus began walking, venturing toward the statue that was the centerpiece of the impressive chamber. He reached out a hand to stroke it, speaking to Chimaera without bothering to turn around. "This statue doesn't really look much like the real Chimaera. The painting is a bit closer, but none of them do the monster justice. If it looked like this, don't you think it would have been easier to kill? It would not have taken a foolhardy mortal and a divine servant if it was so simple a creature as this.”
Chimaera frowned, the first show of displeasure since Pegasus had entered the room. Pegasus slowly turned to face him. "But I wish it had looked like this. Perhaps then I would not have to be here."
"Master?"
Pegasus' face grew tense, "I have told you not to call me that. I am a divine servant, no matter what duties are forced upon me."
"Forgive me." Chimaera ducked his head, lavender hair sliding in front of his face. His wings drooped slightly behind him.
Sighing softly, Pegasus moved toward him and reached out a hesitant hand to gently touch Chimaera's head. "No, it is I who should apologize. This room resurrects unhappy memories. But please do not call me Master, it feels wrong to be placed in such a role."
"As you wish.” Chimaera raised his head, and caught Pegasus's hand as it dropped away. "But in this place you are the Master; it is difficult for me if you reject the role."
"I am sorry to be difficult, but I am a divine servant. I am not meant to be a Master, and it bothers me to be such. You be the Master, if there must be one."
"What?" Chimaera asked, startled.
Pegasus shook his head, "Never mind. If you really want to help me, then…tell me about this room, yourself, how you come to be here."
"…As you wish."
Fierce blue eyes softened slightly as tension eased from Pegasus' face. "How come you to look as you do, Chimaera? Creatures such as you are made, not born."
For several moments, Chimaera was silent. Almost unconsciously he moved toward the statue, reaching out his hands to trace the lines of it lovingly.”
Pegasus hesitated, "If it troubles you to speak of it, please do not feel you must…"
Chimaera turned to look at him. "That isn't it. Honestly, it's only that I've not thought about it for a very long time." He returned his gaze to the statue, "It actually began with this statue…"
“My mother was an artist. A great one – except that she was female, poor and had a child but no husband. I loved her dearly, and she often called me her greatest masterpiece.” Chimaera smiled sadly. “Her art moved all who saw it, and those that did not mind that it was done by a woman began to commission her. We got by.”
“Then she received a great commission. We had plenty of money after that; enough to pay our debts and me certain of meals. And my mother could stop working for a bit and focus on what she wanted to make. And what she wanted was to make a statue of her favorite myth – the mighty Chimaera.”
Pegasus did not look surprised.
“So she began to work on it. She had been planning the design for years, and bought the finest marble from which to sculpt it. Everything else in her life paled. Even I barely saw her unless I went to the studio to watch her work.” Chimaera shook his head. “With her fervor her arrogance grew. My mother was proud of herself, of everything she had done.” He smiled again, and pride mingled with the sadness. “She swore when she was done the gods would not be able to create a better statue.”
“Foolish,” Pegasus said softly. “The Pantheon dislikes such statements. I begin to see where the story ends.”
“Yes,” Chimaera said softly. “She finished her sculpture.” He stroked the statue again. “And the gods decided to show her that they could, indeed, do much better.”
“They turned you into a Chimaera.”
“Yes.” Chimaera stared up at the statue. “My mother couldn’t take it. She loved Chimaera, she loved me. But she didn’t want us to be the same thing. She tried to cope…but it was too much for her to bear. And she couldn’t take that as a Chimaera, I was – in her eyes – far better than the sculpture she had slaved over for ages.”
Pegasus started to reach out to him, then realized what he was doing and kept his hand back.
“I left, eventually. Found a place to hide and remained there for decades…centuries. There is much of that time I don’t remember. It was easier to just…not exist…when I eventually returned to myself the world was a strange place.” Chimaera smiled ruefully. “All that I recognized was a copy of my mother’s statue. Nothing else was familiar to me.” Unconsciously he hugged himself. “People still do not like the sight of me. It was easier, in the end, to come here.”
This time Pegasus didn’t keep himself from reaching out, but gently grasped Chimaera’s hand and rubbed his thumb soothingly over the back of it, admiring despite himself the fine, night-dark skin. “The gods are often cruel. I am sorry you were victim to them.”
“You must be Pegasus,” Chimaera said. “To speak so casually of the gods.” He squeezed Pegasus’ hand. “You are kind to me.”
“You were kind enough to tell me how you came to be. I am sorry to have dredged up such memories.”
Chimaera shook his head, silken hair swishing against his shirt, spilling over his shoulders. “They are so faint now…” He shrugged. “Once I agonized, to the point I ceased to exist as a human should. I recovered, and here I’ve found a haven.”
Pegasus nodded, still looking at their hands.
“Would you like food? A bath?”
“A bath would be nice,” Pegasus said wistfully. “If you really don’t mind.”
“You are my Master here,” Chimaera said, amused. “Whatever you want is yours. You’ve only to say.”
Pegasus frowned, displeased at being labeled a master, but did not press it.
“This way, Pegasus.” Chimaera turned away from the bronze statue and toward the cityscape. He grinned at Pegasus’s startled gasp, as he swung open a door that until then had looked as though it were merely a painting.
The bathroom was done entirely in white marble. Columns lined the edge, and the back portion of the room was taken up completely by a large, round bath. Steam curled up from the water.
Like a man possessed Pegasus headed toward it, clothing discarded carelessly. He almost felt like crying again, to feel the hot water on his skin, to smell that exotic spice-and-flower scent he remembered from the bed.
The clinking of glass on marble snapped him from his lull, and he looked up guiltily at Chimaera, who was kneeling beside the bath with a tray of soaps and oils. “Would you like assistance or shall I leave you in peace?”
Pegasus’s first instinct was to be left alone. Solitude, for centuries, had been his only option to time spent with a despised Master. But suddenly he was loath for Chimaera to go, though that name and creature should make him miserable. “Do you mind staying?”
“Not at all.” Chimaera’s red eyes sparkled. “I think you may as well become accustomed to being Master.”
“I can only be what I am. And that is not a Master.”
Chimaera let it pass. “Shall I wash you?”
“Ah—” Pegasus floundered.
Glass clinked and a scent like the air after a storm mingled with the flower and spice. Claws raked carefully through his hair, gently soaping it. “If I might ask an impertinent question…” he said as he washed the soap from Pegasus’ hair.
“You haven’t seemed concerned about such things so far,” Pegasus said.
Chimaera laughed. “The Palace is the Palace. It is its on entity. Even the gods cannot interfere. They can only play by the rules.”
“Hmm…” was all Pegasus said in reply. “What was your impertinent question?”
“I always understood Pegasus to be a winged horse.”
Pegasus laughed. It was a sad and bitter sound. “I was a winged horse because that was what my Masters at the time demanded. For to give me to Bellerophon – though they allowed him to think he caught me. He was the only Master to whom I was given. All others gained me by different means. I take whatever form most pleases my Master.”
“I see. And your current Master required you take on a mortal shape?”
“No, actually.” Pegasus sighed – half at the tiresome memories, but it mingled with one of pleasure as Chimaera began to wash him with a soft cloth and the same rain-fresh soap he’d used before. Unconsciously he relaxed into the touches, so different from the rough ones that had left the bruises which still lingered on his skin. “It was the muses, after winning me from Hades, who decided it would be amusing to make me human. Master Theodore’s great grandfather was so taken he demanded as his prize after winning…”
Chimaera dropped the rag in shock. “What? He…he won you? From the Muses? The Muses? How is that possible?” Slowly he picked up the rag and resumed washing Pegasus, scooting to sit at the edge of the bath so that he could reach around to his torso. “No one is better than the gods.”
“Master Theodore’s grandfather bested all of them. Took a treasure from each of them…and me as the prize for besting all the Muses. The terms of the challenge prevent any of the Pantheon from winning me back. I must be freed by Master Theodore or one of his family.”
Chimaera shook his head, still dumbfounded. “To beat the Muses…” He shook his head again.
“It was no easy feat. But Master Theodore comes from a long line of gifted artisans. From painting to playing to singing. Master Theodore is renowned for the symphonies he creates…”
“No wonder then that this Master Theodore owns a Key.” Chimaera lingered, reluctant to stop bathing Pegasus. It was rare the master who enjoyed such idles. Masters sought their Keys for a particular kind of attention. Few bothered to enjoy the smaller things. And Pegasus was fine indeed. If he had been the one challenging the Muses, Pegasus would have proven quite tempting indeed. Finally he ceased, and returned the tray to its hidden shelf. “Would you like to soak longer?”
Pegasus stepped out of the bath. He bowed his head. “Thank you.”
“There is no need,” Chimaera replied. He wrapped Pegasus in a soft towel and led the way back into the main room.
Immediately Pegasus was drawn to the painting of Bellerophon. His fingers touched the gold leather at his throat.
“It must bother you, to be constantly reminded…”
Pegasus didn’t take his eyes from the painting. “He was my first kind Master. Those of the Pantheon treat me like either a child or a toy. Bellerophon…he was my friend. Until…”
Chimaera nodded in understanding. “Would you prefer a different Key?”
“What?” Pegasus looked at him. “No.”
“Good,” Chimaera smiled. “Why did you come? Your motivations do not seem to be the usual…”
Pegasus glowered at something only he could see. “I would not force such things.”
“No Key is ever forced. It is why we’re here.”
“All the same. But I’m here because it was what I was told to do, when I asked Zeus for help…” Pegasus shivered.
Chimaera turned him away from the painting and toward the fire which had lit in the massive fireplace with the setting of the sun. He pressed Pegasus down on the rug before it, bundling a blanket around him. “Whatever I can do to help,” he said. “I am here to serve you.”
This just made Pegasus hunch his shoulders. “It is not right.”
“Why do you protest so much?” Chimaera frowned. “I told you – the Palace is different.”
The blankets and towel slipped some as Pegasus shook his head in protest. “No,” Pegasus said. “I am not capable of being a Master. It is not what I am.”
Chimaera disagreed. “There are few rules at the Palace. Slaves become Masters and the mightiest of Emperor’s can be become a Key.”
“Except for me,” Pegasus said. He didn’t protest when Chimaera brushed still-damp strands of hair from his cheek, but he didn’t react favorably either. “Humans are gifted with that rare privilege. Gods and beings like me – we are powerful, in our own ways, but we cannot change what we are. It is the price we pay for divinity. I was made to be the perfect servant. That is all I can be.”
“That is absurd.”
“It is absurd for you,” Pegasus said wearily. “Because you were human. Still are, beneath the Chimaera you have become. I exist to serve. I need to serve.”
“And yet you’re miserable. Any fool can see that.”
Pegasus shrugged. “I do not pick my Masters.”
Chimaera fell silent, studying the beautiful young man set aglow by the firelight while the room around them darkened with nightfall.
His memories were few, lost to time and for his peace of mind. But he remembered his mother, and how hard she worked at sculpting. Often she had worked like a woman possessed, sacrificing everything to finish that or perfect that. It hadn’t mattered what it cost her to create, she paid the price gladly. Even her early commissions, lewd things for places a good woman should know nothing about, were done with care and skill because she could help but be a good artist.
She did not pick her commissions.
Reaching out, he grasped Pegasus’s face and softly kissed each cheek. “Then so long as you possess my key, I shall be your Master. But remember that you, ultimately, are in control here. Perhaps you are the servant out there, but in here only the rules of the Palace apply. If you wish it, I will be your Master. But only because that is your desire.”
“I…” Pegasus drifted off into silence, and slowly nodded.
Chimaera drew him close, and held Pegasus tight, until he began to relax the slightest bit. Eventually he began to press kisses to that pale flesh, a variety of them to whatever he could reach. Whisper-soft kisses to his cheek, a lap to his neck just above the collar, a firm kiss to his shoulder; over and over again he kissed Pegasus. Never pressing, only soothing, until Pegasus relaxed completely against his. “Rest, Pegasus.”
With a soundless murmur of acquiescence, Pegasus did as he was bid, head resting against Chimaera’s shoulder. When he was certain Pegasus was fast asleep, Chimaera bundled him into his arms and carefully stood. With a thought he banked the fire, then carried Pegasus to bed, stripping away the fireside blanket before tucking him beneath the sheets and duvet.
Pegasus was dead to the world. Chimaera smiled. His memories of the gods were not happy ones. How one such as Pegasus was born from the likes of the Pantheon, he didn’t know. The gods were fools indeed to so maltreat such a fine being.
And how strange his own sudden possessiveness. He looked up at the paintings on the wall – the fierce chimaera snarling across the way at Pegasus and Bellerophon. How Bellerophon and Chimaera seemed almost to vibrate with battle lust, while Pegasus merely seemed to want to protect his Master. He had examined the paintings thousands of times, between reading books, always eager to understand that much more about his room, his new life.
What would it be like to have that sort of devotion? To know the man – or horse or whatever – beside you not only wanted to serve and protect you, but needed to. Lived solely for that? To do whatever you wanted…
It was easy to see why Pegasus had been so foully mistreated. How heady, to know you so completely owned someone that way. Bad enough to be a Key who must do as he is bid…Chimaera’s eyes strayed once more to the fireplace.
Even now, long after the room had been cleaned, the smell of his own blood and the burning of the bastard’s flesh filled his nose. Every servant had his limits, and that Master had gone well past his. They did not send that sort to him anymore.
How much worse it must be for Pegasus.
Chimaera sat at the edge of the bed beside Pegasus and reached out to brush aside strands of his snow-white hair, and let his hand linger on that fine skin which paled even more next to his own midnight skin. Before he realized what he was doing, Chimaera leaned down to kiss Pegasus softly. He smelled of the sky after a storm, fresh and new. His lips were soft, warm and pliant beneath Chimaera’s, and tasted ever so faintly of honey.
He drew back with a start when Pegasus responded to the kiss – but a glance showed that he was still fast asleep.
Shaking his head, Chimaera gave himself a stern reprimand and went to fetch a book to read. Though he was tired, something told him sleep would not be coming easily that night.
TBC
This was, I think, the first original-ish story I ever attempted. It predates even Rainbow by like a couple of weeks, and somewhere it fell to the side. I'd meant to have all eight chapters completed, but like I said it'll be ages before I'm able to get back to it now. It hasn't been beta'ed, so feel free to correct stuff in you're inclined. I think ki-chan pointed some errors out once but I forgot to go back and make them ^^
Just for kicks, and b/c Midsummer won't be up 'til I get home tonight. Alas, only the fourth part is new. I think only my early readers would even remember this story. For those not familiar with the game, The Palace of Keys is awesome. I highly reccomend getting into it. Of course, me being me, when I first chose mine I went for the one that sounded the most interesting and got stuck with a truly unique key. I think I was a bit intimidated. Heh.
Will email to the proper person when it's been edited.
Description of the Chimaera Key
The Chimaera Key
ONE
ONE
Sweet, pungent incense permeated the small chamber, soaking into the silks and velvets that draped the walls and covered the fine hardwood floor. A slight figure knelt before an impressive altar of the god Zeus, the focal point of the room. The statue was at least two feet high, carved in such precise and exquisite detail it seemed to be made of flesh rather than white marble. The room was small but richly appointed. All around the perimeter and beside the statue were fine beeswax candles, adding to the illusion that the statue was real rather than cold stone.
The kneeling figure was praying, his murmurs were barely audible. Snow-white hair, as fine as corn silk, dusted his neck and fell forward across his down-tilted face. His hands were clasped tightly together, and held so close to his face that his lips occasionally brushed them as they soundlessly chanted the prayers. He was young looking, no more than eighteen or so, his face as beautifully shaped as the statue to which he prayed. But beneath his prettiness there seemed to lurk a shadow, as if something haunted him or weighed him down. Even his eyes, a stunning blue that seemed to be a mix of lightning and water, seemed dim.
Anger and despair mixed in the young man's face as he lifted it to regard the statue of Zeus. His prayers had faded, as if he were giving them up for hopeless. But the sadness that haunted him only made him more beautiful, the anger making it sharper. He let his hands fall to his lap, a tear falling slowly down his cheek as he sat in the small chamber. Eventually, he began heavily to rise from his kneeling position.
Then the candles went out.
A soft gasp escaped pale pink lips, and the man resumed his earlier position. Two small beads of light shone in the dark room, gradually growing in intensity. The young man realized the eyes of the statue were glowing, burning brighter and brighter until a hot, white light consumed the room.
More tears fell down his face as he once more clasped his hands. His voice was less despondent, more hopeful, as he resumed speaking. The words he spoke were not English. A few might recognize them as resembling Greek, but no mortal had ever spoken this form of that language.
"Sacred Father, hear my pleas. I beg you to release me from this torment. Should death be my only recourse, I will gladly take it. Only do not leave me with these mortals a day more. Please, my Father, I beg of you."
As he finished speaking, a voice of soft thunder resonated in his head, seeming somehow to come from the statue with glowing eyes. Precious child, forgive my long absence. I was loath to answer your prayers before I could offer you a solution.
"Does…does that mean you can set me free?"
You know that is not within my power, precious Pegasus. Foolish as it was, the pact made between the Muses and the mortals who hold you was binding. I cannot break it. However…the circumstances of your current master can work to your advantage, if you exploit the opportunity.
"I…I do not understand."
A Key will be offered to you. Take it, Pegasus. Use it to your advantage; the Key is more than he realizes.
"A key, Father? What do you mean?"
But the voice was gone, as the white light began to fade slowly away. A moment later the room was dark, and then the warm yellow light of the candles returned.
Wiping the traces of tears from his pale skin, Pegasus rose slowly to his feet and left the room. Emerging in a long hallway dripping with gold and crystal, he dazedly made his way back to his room.
Reaching his bedchamber, he immediately padded to the window seat on the far side of it, curling up against the glass and stared unseeing at the view outside.
Outside, the sun was a deep, burning red set in a sky of orange, pink and purple, the faintest tinges of blue fighting against the pending darkness. The ocean over which the villa looked was a mass of churning black, and Pegasus turned away to sit with his back pressed to the still warm glass. His thoughts were on what Zeus had said, and he tried and failed to make sense of the bizarre words.
He was interrupted in his musings by the opening and closing of his door. Shoving his thoughts away to mull over later, Pegasus slid from his seat to kneel on the floor. "Good evening, my Lord Theodore."
Theodore Arkipus was sleek and handsome in a magazine sort of way, his tailored suit as dark as the churning ocean outside. His dark green tie matched his eyes, the gold in his ears directing attention to the thick, black curls that so elegantly framed his impeccable face. He frowned at the kneeling Pegasus; he seldom looked happy when he came to visit the divine slave.
For no matter how he humiliated the creature, no matter what he made him do or beg for, the pale, beautiful young man always retained an air of pride and dignity that Theodore could not beat out of him. He hated it.
Pegasus remained motionless.
Even when Theodore backhanded him did he barely move. "Well, Pegasus. It would seem the Lord Zeus has begun to tire of having his most precious servant in the hands of mortals." Pegasus remained silent, motionless, and Theodore continued. "The family fortunes are not what they once were, and my attempts to restore them have proven successful."
Still Pegasus said nothing. He had learned to remain silent.
"Zeus has agreed to restore our fortunes - for a price."
Barely breathing, Pegasus waited.
"That price being a brief reprieve for you." Theodore laughed coldly. "I guess since it is impossible for him to demand your freedom outright. After all," he yanked Pegasus to his feet, and ran his fingers over the pale skin left bare by a loose wrap You belong to me, and cannot be released unless I choose to remove this." He tugged lightly at the collar wrapped almost too tightly around his throat; it looked as though it was made of solid gold, but was as supple as leather. He yanked the divine servant closer. "So I will grant you what the Lord Zeus has demanded. If he wants you to go to the Palace, then to the Palace you shall go."
Utterly confused, Pegasus never the less remained silent. Theodore nodded, almost as if he approved. He began to strip Pegasus of his garments. "But that won't be until tomorrow, servant, and I've had a very long, very trying day. Why not demonstrate how grateful you are that I am granting you a 'vacation'?" He bent his head to kiss Pegasus, lips hard and bruising against Pegasus' much softer ones. His hands, though soft from a life of luxury, were rough as they greedily roamed soft flesh then shoved Pegasus in the direction of the bed.
Shoving away his private thoughts and feelings, Pegasus let himself be pressed into the sheets and set to work pleasing his master. Silently he prayed for the night to go by quickly, that the morning would arrive and bring his temporary freedom with it.
Two
"Hurry up, Pegasus. I haven't got all day." Theodore stalked across a lavish courtyard and quickly up wide marble steps. Several steps behind, Pegasus lingered to examine the the white marble building that made him think of the home he’d not seen in decades. Carved into the arch over the entry way were the words Myth and Magic. Theodore called hisname again, and Pegasus forced his curiosity aside. But his eyes wandered as they walked, increasingly impressed with the splendor of the place, splendor fine enough to rival even Olympus.
Inside, the lobby continued the marble theme, but across the floor were scattered thick oriental carpets. Skylights in the ceiling brought the colors of the rich carpets to life. The room seemed to stretch on indefinitely.
To the right of the entrance was a long counter, chest high and made from some strange dark wood. Myth and Magic appeared here too, scrolled neatly in gold across the front of the counter. The two men approached, and found themselves greeted by a smiling face.
Behind the counter was a man who looked to be in his mid-twenties or so. His dark hair lay close against his head in tight curls, though a few locks strayed into his deep blue eyes, and he seemed to be laughing at some private joke as he greeted the two men. A small gold caduceus hung from a slender chain around his neck. "Good morning, Lord Theodore. We have been expecting you. You have the appropriate ID?"
Acknowledging the man's words with little more than a slight sneer, Theodore reached briefly into his coat before tossing two cards onto the countertop. The first was a passport and this the desk man examined briefly. The second he picked up to examine more closely. It resembled a credit card, made from black plastic. Across the bottom half of it ran four thin bands of color: red, lavender, amber, silver. Typed across the top in gold print was "M & M: Chimaera 389 1315 181.” In smaller print directly beneath that was Theodore’s name.
Nodding slightly, the man swiped the card on a small device placed beside his computer. Watching the screen, he nodded again when the computer indicated that all was correct. Handing the passport and card back to Theodore, he then turned to face the back wall. A painting hung there, but before Pegasus could examine it, the dark haired man swung it forward, like a door. A safe was revealed, and the young man rapidly punched in a long code A couple of minutes later and he withdrew a small velvet pouch, lavender in color. This he handed to Theodore. “How long will you be staying, sir?”
Theodore laughed. “I will not be staying.” He indicated Pegasus, and the dark haired man finally turned his attention to the silent figure standing just behind Theodore. Pegasus stared back, eyes narrowed in confusion. They widened in surprise when the man winked. Theodore seemed not to have noticed. “My…companion here will be staying for one month. He is not to leave the premises, and I am to be informed if he tries. I will retrieve him at the end of his stay. Is that understood?”
The man only nodded. “Of course, sir. Whatever you wish.” He turned to address Pegasus. “If you will come with me sir, I will show you the way to your room. Your Key awaits.”
Theodore’s smile was cold as he tossed the velvet pouch at his frowning Servant. “Enjoy your stay, Pegasus.” Turning, he returned the way they’d come. Pegasus watched pensively as he departed, uncertain of how to act or feel. A soft hand on his shoulder recalled him, and he looked up into the face of the dark haired man.
“Shall we be going, Pegasus? You won’t find freedom standing here.” He grinned, eyes laughing.
“Trickster. Does noble Zeus know you are here?” Pegasus frowned, though his lips twitched with the desire to smile.
“Don’t insult me. Zeus will know where I am when I want him to know. I just thought I’d come say hello. I’ve tried before, but there are only so many “legitimate” ways to get inside that damned fortress your Teddy calls a home. And Zeus wouldn’t let me try the other ways. Something about breaking the rules.”
“This isn’t breaking the rules, Hermes?” Pegasus was quickly forgetting his fatigue as he smiled faintly up at his old friend.
“Hey, I work here. It’s just happy coincidence. Now come on, mustn’t keep your Key waiting. Which reminds me, I should warn you…” He turned to walk toward the end of the entryway, headed for the large double doors that led deeper into the strange building. He walked slowly, a nervous frown on his face.
Pegasus’ partial smile froze. “Warn me about what? What’s going to happen now? And what is all this Key business”
“Look, it’s not like that—wait, Teddy didn’t explain the Palace to you?” Hermes looked even more concerned.
The shorter man glared up at the mischievous god. “Hermes, Lord Theodore explains nothing to me. Ever. What is going on? Just once, I would like a straight answer.”
Hermes halted at the end of a long hallway. The walls were black, and the light from the small fixtures on the walls and ceiling helped little. The floor was covered in large tiles, alternating in colors of red, lavender, amber, and silver. Hermes had halted their progress in front of a door, the same color as the walls, with a quatrefoil at eye level, each of the four sections painted in one of the four colors from the tiled floor. Turning to face Pegasus, he indicated the velvet pouch clutched in the shorter figures hand. “The door only opens with the Key in that bag. It belongs to Theodore, and for now to you. Now, about the Palace…”
“I think I can guess by this point. Honestly, there’s only so many things a place like this can be. I’ve done it long enough myself have I not?” His voice was bitter, and Hermes remained silent for a moment.
“At any rate, Pegs, my warning was that you probably won’t care much for the room. Each Key has a theme—I haven’t told you what this Key’s theme is for a reason.” he motioned toward the pouch held lightly in Pegasus’ fist. “Just try to remember that this is your only chance to return home, all right?” Hermes bent forward to brush a light kiss across Pegasus’ cheek. “See you in a month; we’ll throw you a grand party.” With a wave Hermes was gone.
Pegasus stared at the door, not quite glaring. He shifted his attention to the pouch still clutched in his hand, pulling the drawstring loose and dumping the contents into his other hand. A key lay there, about the length of his index finger. Black in color, the top was the same quatrefoil design as that of the door, each segment filled in with a jewel: ruby, amethyst, amber and diamond. Grimacing, Pegasus fit the key to the lock and turned.
The door opened with ease and Pegasus stepped inside, allowing the door to swing shut behind him. His gaze was immediately caught by the ceiling that towered above him, far higher than it needed to be. Dropping his gaze, he found himself caught by the image on the far wall.
The northern wall directly opposite him was taken up completely by a painting of the Chimaera of legend, a creature that was part lion, part goat and part snake. The goat’s head was thrown back, flames pouring from its mouth. The snake and lion heads were raised high, displaying a strong pride and eagerness for battle. His gaze trailed away, taking in the sky blue tone of the eastern wall and the impressive fireplace set into the center of it. There was no fire lit at present, but the ashes and soot indicated frequent usage.
Directly across, the western wall boasted a cityscape that was nothing short of spectacular. The lower portion was life size, right down to a door that looked real enough to open up and step through. The city trailed back from the lower portion, carrying on toward a horizon where the rest of it was lost.
Pegasus turned to examine the rest of the room. Looking up, past the door he had come through, he let out a soft, pained gasp. He could only stare, frozen. Sudden tears trailed unnoticed down his cheek.
The painting on the southern wall was an image of the Chimaera’s slayers, as proud and battle-hungry as the figure on the opposite wall. The mighty horse stood with wings flared, a painted sun shining down on his pristine white wings. Beside him stood the strong, beautiful figure of Bellerophon. Pegasus noted with a twist of his heart that the image was true—that was his Bellerophon, as if he had stood for the portrait himself. No wonder Hermes said I would not care for this room.
With a faint cry Pegasus turned away, stumbling in the opposite direction in a blind attempt to get away from the image of his first Master. He was halted by the touch of a soft hand on his shoulder, which kept him from colliding with the statue he hadn’t noticed.
How he had missed the statue in the center of room, he didn’t know. Standing directly beneath the high glass ceiling was a replica of the most famous rendition of his ancient enemy, the Chimaera. The faintest rays of early morning sunlight spilled through the glass ceiling, giving the bronze a soft shine. Looking away, he turned his attention to the hand that had stopped him.
What in Zeus’ name is this creature? His eyes drifted briefly back to the statue, then back down at the strange creature kneeling below it. Some sort of Chimaera? That’s impossible. “Who are you?” He slowly approached the figure, which he could just see was male.
His voice was even, almost soothing. Pegasus was somewhat startled as the young man began to speak; he spoke in Latin. “I am called Chimaera.” The creature seemed to hesitate a moment, “Are you alright, Master?”
Pegasus could only stare, barely hearing the so-called Chimaera’s words. For all the centuries he had existed, the countless beasts and demons he had both slain and served, never had he seen a creature such as this.
Chimaera’s skin was black, as rich and pure as the finest India ink. Well-shaped, pointed ears peeked out of lavender hair, and Pegasus wondered if it felt like the watered silk it resembled. Narrowing his eyes at the unwelcome thought, he continued his perusal. A royal blue shirt just barely clung to his shoulders, showing off the bronze collar around his throat. Long slits in billowing sleeves only bared more of the creature’s rich, dark skin. Dark red pants flowed loosely over his legs, stopping just short of draping over the eastern style sandals on his feet.
Eyes drawn briefly toward the sandal and foot, Pegasus noticed without surprise that Chimaera didn’t have toenails—he had claws. Short but finely pointed silver claws. Eyes straying toward the hand that slowly lifted from his shoulder, he noticed the same was true of his fingernails. Interesting…where did such a creature come from? His eyes widened slightly as he caught movement from behind Chimaera and realized the creature had a lion’s tail.
Allowing his eyes to trail upward, Pegasus only briefly met the eyes staring calmly back at him—eyes the very red that gave bloodstones their name. Ignoring the gaze, Pegasus examined the feature that had first made him gasp. Wings sprouted from the Chimaera’s back, but they were mismatched. The right wing resembled a bird’s, colored a fierce, burning red. The left wing called to mind a monarch butterfly, the black and gold pattern varied only in that the placement of the colors was reversed.
Pegasus stepped closer, returning his gaze to look the figure in the eyes. It was harder to gauge with that dark skin, but he appeared to be young, only about eighteen or so. “You really are a Chimaera, aren’t you?” He spoke smoothly in Latin, noticing relief flash across Chimaera’s face.
“Yes, Master.”
“…Master? Do not call me that, it is not right.” Pegasus frowned as he realized this was the second time the strange young man had used the word to address him.
Chimaera only nodded. “As you wish.”
“Where are you from? Did Theodore bring you here? ” Pegasus frowned at the thought of Theodore owning yet another unique being, though it did not surprise him to see that Theodore kept pleasures such as this around.
“Theodore? I do not know of whom you speak.” Chimaera spoke softly, his calm tone never changing.
Pegasus looked at him, genuinely shocked, “Theodore is the one who owns you.”
Chimaera reached out a slender hand to tap the forgotten key in Pegasus’ palm with a silver claw. “My last owner was unable to adjust to my appearance. You are the first Master I have had since.”
Pegasus frowned, displeased. “I told you—I am no Master. To call me such is insulting.” His temper faded as Chimaera murmured an apology. Reaching out, he reached out to clasp one of Chimaera’s dark hands, causing the red eyes to look up once again. “My apologies Chimaera, I am unused to such treatment. My name is Pegasus, just call me that for now.”
Though the dark-skinned young man was not overly tall, Pegasus had to smile as he saw that Chimaera was still taller than he. The sunlight pouring in from the ceiling had increased slightly, though it was still far too early for there to be much.
Releasing Chimaera’s hand, Pegasus looked around the room again. Beneath the fierce image of Chimaera was an inviting looking bed, the violet coverlet patterned with a familiar quatrefoil motif. Standing in indecision Pegasus sighed softly as he rubbed a hand against his suddenly aching head. He turned back to Chimaera, who still stood motionlessly behind him. “Would you mind if I took a nap, Chimaera?”
He received a polite nod. “Whatever you wish.”
Pegasus stared a moment, then started laughing. It was choked and tinged with sadness, but laughter all the same. He didn’t notice Chimaera jump slightly at the strange sound. “Whatever I wish, hmm? That’s not right, not right at all. But it’s different, so for now I’ll take it.” Striding toward the bed, Pegasus took only enough time to discard his light coat and shoes before throwing himself into bed.
The last thing he noticed before drifting off was that the sheets didn’t smelled nice, like flowers and spice. Not of Theodore.
Three
Chimaera stood over the bed, a hand hovering uncertainly over the head of the sleeping figure. Unable to help himself, he finally lowered his hand to run it gently through strands of pale hair. Silver claws combed through the thick mass idly as he frowned in thought. Pegasus…that’s a strange name to give someone…Raising his eyes, Chimaera gazed up at the painting directly opposite the bed, which depicted Bellerophon and his devoted winged horse. His eyes lingered on the horse, which stood protectively beside its master, flared wings almost painfully bright in the sun burning down on the legendary heroes.
Gaze returning to his sleeping master, Chimaera examined him more closely. He had been too surprised earlier to take much notice—it wasn’t often a master so calmly accepted his appearance, and he’d never been reprimanded for referring to an owner as “Master.”
He was short, that much he’d noticed earlier. Between the two of them, there really wasn’t much in the way of height. His skin was fair, now that he was asleep—it had been sickeningly pale earlier, when Pegasus had started crying. His hair resembled that of another master he’d once had, though Pegasus’ was thicker, and a cleaner white. Chimaera remembered his eyes— a bright, bold blue.
Trailing his lightly down the sleeping man’s face, he let his fingers linger on the gold collar around his throat. The collar was thick, and seemed to be cinched rather snuggly around his neck. It feels like leather, but it looks like solid gold. He stroked the leather with a thumb, again looking up to the portrait on the opposite wall--where a gold bridle was visible against stark white. But why would Pegasus be here?
Pulling back his hand, Chimaera moved away from the bed and toward the immense cityscape. Approaching one of the life-size, painted windows, he reached out to lift a well-concealed latch and swung open the disguised doors. Inside the cabinet were many books, ranging in subject but mostly focusing on modern history. They varied in language, from Latin to Italian to English. Selecting one written in English, he closed the cabinet and turned to head for his usual reading spot. But halfway to the statue he hesitated, looking back toward the bed. I should probably stay close - he'll be confused when he first wakes up.
Circling around to the opposite side of the bed Chimaera gingerly climbed onto it, settling back against plush, violet pillows. Opening his book to where he'd left off last time, the recounting of some major war in Europe. But his eyes and mind kept straying to the slender figure beside him, infinitely more interesting than the contents of his book.
Pegasus' chest role and fell gently, soft breaths just barely audible as he exhaled. Chimaera was fascinated. He hadn't been at the palace very long, only a few years perhaps - it was hard to tell sometimes. Ten masters so far, and all of them had been larger than he. Most had been pleasant, Chimaera had learned and enjoyed a great deal with them. But one had been incapable of adjusting to his appearance (despite explicit warnings that he was strange), and one… his gaze strayed briefly toward the fireplace, which remained empty in the daylight hours. One had ended rather badly.
Shaking off the unhappy thought, Chimaera resumed watching Pegasus. Slowly closing his book, he shifted his gaze again - toward the painting on the far wall. Bellerophon and Pegasus stared fiercely back at him, ready to attack. His eyes dropped to the statue in the middle of the room.
"Elias, isn't it beautiful?" His mother smiled brightly as she looked from sculpture to son.
Elias looked up from his book, carefully examining his mother's work. His brown eyes were bright as he returned her smile. "It's exceptional, mama. You are truly the best there is.”
She laughed delightedly. "Yes, I am. Though only because I somehow managed to create a masterpiece such as you. Next to you, this is second rate. Which makes it more than adequate for the buyer." She clapped her hands, "Now, come help your mother clean up and then I'll show you what she plans to do with all the money she's getting for Aphrodite here."
Elias quirked a brow, "Have you paid off all the bills yet, mama? We can not stall on them for much longer…"
Flapping her hands impatiently, the woman replied, "Yes, yes, darling. I've already subtracted all that from the commission. Everything is taken care of. Didn't I tell you it would be, once I finished the goddess here?" She turned again to look at her completed sculpture, the goddess Aphrodite perched on a garden bench, temping the mortals who would pass by her in the garden of the lord who had commissioned her. "I am almost sorry to see her go but I can not sculpt without shelter and food. As you often remind me."
"I am fond of you, mama, so I prefer that you stay alive." Elias smiled gently at his mother as he began to move around the disordered studio, setting things to right and clearing away the masses of dust left over from his mother's work. They worked in comfortable silenc, until at last they stood in the midst of a clean studio.
"There.” Elias grinned. "Clean until you destroy again tomorrow."
His mother reached out to ruffle his hair, then strode over to a small table against the back wall. She lifted up a heavy piece of sketching paper, "Yes, but look at what will be wrought from that destruction." Her eyes glowed with excitement. "Isn't it marvelous? It will eclipse everything.”
"Chimaera? Mother, you are obsessed. What's so interesting about that poor beast to you?”
Fervently the woman traced the lines of the sketch, "What's so interesting? You know why I like him so much. It's not like sculpting a person or a creature - you have to capture the likeness of several, all forced to be one. A goat, a lion…there's so much there, and they have to blend harmoniously or the image falls apart. Just wait; when I am finished they will beg me to display it in the town square. Finally they'll see I'm an artist, not just a woman.. They'll worship it. Even the gods will be jealous."
"Mother!"
"What?" She blinked in confusion up at her son, then shrugged. "I meant nothing by it, darling. You know how badly I want to be acknowledged. It took everything I had to win the Aphrodite job. If that stupid codger had said but one more thing against me…" She fumed in silence a moment, and then shook her head. "It hardly matters, I did get it. And now I'll have enough money to create the Chimaera. Then you and I can settle into a large, comfortable home and want for nothing."
"I am happiest here with you, mama."
"I know, my treasure. But I want better for you." Taking the sketch, and setting it aside, she smoothed her dusty robes and neatened her hair. "Now, let's go find supper. I’m famished and I’m sure you are as well. Perhaps some wine as well, to celebrate…”
"Yes, mama…"
A soft groaning sound interrupted Chimaera's memories, and he jerked his head down to stare into sleep-clouded blue eyes. Pegasus moaned again, eyes fluttering as he slowly struggled to sit up. "Where…"
"Pegasus. Are you well?"
Pegasus stared up at him, face as serious as it had been before he'd gone to sleep. "You are Chimaera?"
"Yes. Do you fee better? You were greatly upset before you went to sleep."
"No, I do not feel much better. But I am rested, that is worth something."
"Would you like something to eat?" Chimaera stared at him, red eyes intent but soft.
Soft white hair fluttered around his head as he shook it, "No, I am fine…but if you are hungry, please feel free to eat." He slid from the bed, barely noticing as Chimaera trailed after him. He stood before the painting of Bellerophon and Pegasus, his expression once again tight. Behind him Chimaera drew a breath, as if to speak.
"Does the painting bother you? You can order it removed."
Pegasus laughed, though there was little humor in it. "No, I cannot. This place is…on loan? I guess you could say. Besides, I have the feeling this entire room is the key to my freedom." He unconsciously lifted a hand to stroke the gold wrapped around his throat.
Chimaera hesitated, watching the fingers stroke the gold that felt so much like soft leather. "Forgive me….Master…but are you…are you the actual Pegasus?"
Pegasus turned his brilliant blue eyes on the black-skinned creature, "…I am…but how come you to realize it? Few ever realize it. But I guess you are hardly ordinary yourself.”
"Mortal? No, I am not. As to how I realized it…it is not so hard. The golden bridle still binds you, and no other would have such reason to cry as you.”
Pegasus' voice was bitter. “The first of many Masters. Do you know the tale of Bellerophon?”
"Of course. Bellerophon was given the noble winged horse Pegasus, born from Medusa when her head was cut from her neck. Together they battled and defeated the terrible Chimaera, and many other creatures besides. But Bellerophon grew arrogant and tried to ascend to Mt. Olympus. Zeus sent a gadfly to sting Pegasus, and Bellerophon plunged to his death."
Pegasus began to laugh, the sound a mix of genuine amusement and lingering sadness. "What a pretty tale."
Chimaera was silent.
Pegasus began walking, venturing toward the statue that was the centerpiece of the impressive chamber. He reached out a hand to stroke it, speaking to Chimaera without bothering to turn around. "This statue doesn't really look much like the real Chimaera. The painting is a bit closer, but none of them do the monster justice. If it looked like this, don't you think it would have been easier to kill? It would not have taken a foolhardy mortal and a divine servant if it was so simple a creature as this.”
Chimaera frowned, the first show of displeasure since Pegasus had entered the room. Pegasus slowly turned to face him. "But I wish it had looked like this. Perhaps then I would not have to be here."
"Master?"
Pegasus' face grew tense, "I have told you not to call me that. I am a divine servant, no matter what duties are forced upon me."
"Forgive me." Chimaera ducked his head, lavender hair sliding in front of his face. His wings drooped slightly behind him.
Sighing softly, Pegasus moved toward him and reached out a hesitant hand to gently touch Chimaera's head. "No, it is I who should apologize. This room resurrects unhappy memories. But please do not call me Master, it feels wrong to be placed in such a role."
"As you wish.” Chimaera raised his head, and caught Pegasus's hand as it dropped away. "But in this place you are the Master; it is difficult for me if you reject the role."
"I am sorry to be difficult, but I am a divine servant. I am not meant to be a Master, and it bothers me to be such. You be the Master, if there must be one."
"What?" Chimaera asked, startled.
Pegasus shook his head, "Never mind. If you really want to help me, then…tell me about this room, yourself, how you come to be here."
"…As you wish."
Fierce blue eyes softened slightly as tension eased from Pegasus' face. "How come you to look as you do, Chimaera? Creatures such as you are made, not born."
For several moments, Chimaera was silent. Almost unconsciously he moved toward the statue, reaching out his hands to trace the lines of it lovingly.”
Pegasus hesitated, "If it troubles you to speak of it, please do not feel you must…"
Chimaera turned to look at him. "That isn't it. Honestly, it's only that I've not thought about it for a very long time." He returned his gaze to the statue, "It actually began with this statue…"
Four
“My mother was an artist. A great one – except that she was female, poor and had a child but no husband. I loved her dearly, and she often called me her greatest masterpiece.” Chimaera smiled sadly. “Her art moved all who saw it, and those that did not mind that it was done by a woman began to commission her. We got by.”
“Then she received a great commission. We had plenty of money after that; enough to pay our debts and me certain of meals. And my mother could stop working for a bit and focus on what she wanted to make. And what she wanted was to make a statue of her favorite myth – the mighty Chimaera.”
Pegasus did not look surprised.
“So she began to work on it. She had been planning the design for years, and bought the finest marble from which to sculpt it. Everything else in her life paled. Even I barely saw her unless I went to the studio to watch her work.” Chimaera shook his head. “With her fervor her arrogance grew. My mother was proud of herself, of everything she had done.” He smiled again, and pride mingled with the sadness. “She swore when she was done the gods would not be able to create a better statue.”
“Foolish,” Pegasus said softly. “The Pantheon dislikes such statements. I begin to see where the story ends.”
“Yes,” Chimaera said softly. “She finished her sculpture.” He stroked the statue again. “And the gods decided to show her that they could, indeed, do much better.”
“They turned you into a Chimaera.”
“Yes.” Chimaera stared up at the statue. “My mother couldn’t take it. She loved Chimaera, she loved me. But she didn’t want us to be the same thing. She tried to cope…but it was too much for her to bear. And she couldn’t take that as a Chimaera, I was – in her eyes – far better than the sculpture she had slaved over for ages.”
Pegasus started to reach out to him, then realized what he was doing and kept his hand back.
“I left, eventually. Found a place to hide and remained there for decades…centuries. There is much of that time I don’t remember. It was easier to just…not exist…when I eventually returned to myself the world was a strange place.” Chimaera smiled ruefully. “All that I recognized was a copy of my mother’s statue. Nothing else was familiar to me.” Unconsciously he hugged himself. “People still do not like the sight of me. It was easier, in the end, to come here.”
This time Pegasus didn’t keep himself from reaching out, but gently grasped Chimaera’s hand and rubbed his thumb soothingly over the back of it, admiring despite himself the fine, night-dark skin. “The gods are often cruel. I am sorry you were victim to them.”
“You must be Pegasus,” Chimaera said. “To speak so casually of the gods.” He squeezed Pegasus’ hand. “You are kind to me.”
“You were kind enough to tell me how you came to be. I am sorry to have dredged up such memories.”
Chimaera shook his head, silken hair swishing against his shirt, spilling over his shoulders. “They are so faint now…” He shrugged. “Once I agonized, to the point I ceased to exist as a human should. I recovered, and here I’ve found a haven.”
Pegasus nodded, still looking at their hands.
“Would you like food? A bath?”
“A bath would be nice,” Pegasus said wistfully. “If you really don’t mind.”
“You are my Master here,” Chimaera said, amused. “Whatever you want is yours. You’ve only to say.”
Pegasus frowned, displeased at being labeled a master, but did not press it.
“This way, Pegasus.” Chimaera turned away from the bronze statue and toward the cityscape. He grinned at Pegasus’s startled gasp, as he swung open a door that until then had looked as though it were merely a painting.
The bathroom was done entirely in white marble. Columns lined the edge, and the back portion of the room was taken up completely by a large, round bath. Steam curled up from the water.
Like a man possessed Pegasus headed toward it, clothing discarded carelessly. He almost felt like crying again, to feel the hot water on his skin, to smell that exotic spice-and-flower scent he remembered from the bed.
The clinking of glass on marble snapped him from his lull, and he looked up guiltily at Chimaera, who was kneeling beside the bath with a tray of soaps and oils. “Would you like assistance or shall I leave you in peace?”
Pegasus’s first instinct was to be left alone. Solitude, for centuries, had been his only option to time spent with a despised Master. But suddenly he was loath for Chimaera to go, though that name and creature should make him miserable. “Do you mind staying?”
“Not at all.” Chimaera’s red eyes sparkled. “I think you may as well become accustomed to being Master.”
“I can only be what I am. And that is not a Master.”
Chimaera let it pass. “Shall I wash you?”
“Ah—” Pegasus floundered.
Glass clinked and a scent like the air after a storm mingled with the flower and spice. Claws raked carefully through his hair, gently soaping it. “If I might ask an impertinent question…” he said as he washed the soap from Pegasus’ hair.
“You haven’t seemed concerned about such things so far,” Pegasus said.
Chimaera laughed. “The Palace is the Palace. It is its on entity. Even the gods cannot interfere. They can only play by the rules.”
“Hmm…” was all Pegasus said in reply. “What was your impertinent question?”
“I always understood Pegasus to be a winged horse.”
Pegasus laughed. It was a sad and bitter sound. “I was a winged horse because that was what my Masters at the time demanded. For to give me to Bellerophon – though they allowed him to think he caught me. He was the only Master to whom I was given. All others gained me by different means. I take whatever form most pleases my Master.”
“I see. And your current Master required you take on a mortal shape?”
“No, actually.” Pegasus sighed – half at the tiresome memories, but it mingled with one of pleasure as Chimaera began to wash him with a soft cloth and the same rain-fresh soap he’d used before. Unconsciously he relaxed into the touches, so different from the rough ones that had left the bruises which still lingered on his skin. “It was the muses, after winning me from Hades, who decided it would be amusing to make me human. Master Theodore’s great grandfather was so taken he demanded as his prize after winning…”
Chimaera dropped the rag in shock. “What? He…he won you? From the Muses? The Muses? How is that possible?” Slowly he picked up the rag and resumed washing Pegasus, scooting to sit at the edge of the bath so that he could reach around to his torso. “No one is better than the gods.”
“Master Theodore’s grandfather bested all of them. Took a treasure from each of them…and me as the prize for besting all the Muses. The terms of the challenge prevent any of the Pantheon from winning me back. I must be freed by Master Theodore or one of his family.”
Chimaera shook his head, still dumbfounded. “To beat the Muses…” He shook his head again.
“It was no easy feat. But Master Theodore comes from a long line of gifted artisans. From painting to playing to singing. Master Theodore is renowned for the symphonies he creates…”
“No wonder then that this Master Theodore owns a Key.” Chimaera lingered, reluctant to stop bathing Pegasus. It was rare the master who enjoyed such idles. Masters sought their Keys for a particular kind of attention. Few bothered to enjoy the smaller things. And Pegasus was fine indeed. If he had been the one challenging the Muses, Pegasus would have proven quite tempting indeed. Finally he ceased, and returned the tray to its hidden shelf. “Would you like to soak longer?”
Pegasus stepped out of the bath. He bowed his head. “Thank you.”
“There is no need,” Chimaera replied. He wrapped Pegasus in a soft towel and led the way back into the main room.
Immediately Pegasus was drawn to the painting of Bellerophon. His fingers touched the gold leather at his throat.
“It must bother you, to be constantly reminded…”
Pegasus didn’t take his eyes from the painting. “He was my first kind Master. Those of the Pantheon treat me like either a child or a toy. Bellerophon…he was my friend. Until…”
Chimaera nodded in understanding. “Would you prefer a different Key?”
“What?” Pegasus looked at him. “No.”
“Good,” Chimaera smiled. “Why did you come? Your motivations do not seem to be the usual…”
Pegasus glowered at something only he could see. “I would not force such things.”
“No Key is ever forced. It is why we’re here.”
“All the same. But I’m here because it was what I was told to do, when I asked Zeus for help…” Pegasus shivered.
Chimaera turned him away from the painting and toward the fire which had lit in the massive fireplace with the setting of the sun. He pressed Pegasus down on the rug before it, bundling a blanket around him. “Whatever I can do to help,” he said. “I am here to serve you.”
This just made Pegasus hunch his shoulders. “It is not right.”
“Why do you protest so much?” Chimaera frowned. “I told you – the Palace is different.”
The blankets and towel slipped some as Pegasus shook his head in protest. “No,” Pegasus said. “I am not capable of being a Master. It is not what I am.”
Chimaera disagreed. “There are few rules at the Palace. Slaves become Masters and the mightiest of Emperor’s can be become a Key.”
“Except for me,” Pegasus said. He didn’t protest when Chimaera brushed still-damp strands of hair from his cheek, but he didn’t react favorably either. “Humans are gifted with that rare privilege. Gods and beings like me – we are powerful, in our own ways, but we cannot change what we are. It is the price we pay for divinity. I was made to be the perfect servant. That is all I can be.”
“That is absurd.”
“It is absurd for you,” Pegasus said wearily. “Because you were human. Still are, beneath the Chimaera you have become. I exist to serve. I need to serve.”
“And yet you’re miserable. Any fool can see that.”
Pegasus shrugged. “I do not pick my Masters.”
Chimaera fell silent, studying the beautiful young man set aglow by the firelight while the room around them darkened with nightfall.
His memories were few, lost to time and for his peace of mind. But he remembered his mother, and how hard she worked at sculpting. Often she had worked like a woman possessed, sacrificing everything to finish that or perfect that. It hadn’t mattered what it cost her to create, she paid the price gladly. Even her early commissions, lewd things for places a good woman should know nothing about, were done with care and skill because she could help but be a good artist.
She did not pick her commissions.
Reaching out, he grasped Pegasus’s face and softly kissed each cheek. “Then so long as you possess my key, I shall be your Master. But remember that you, ultimately, are in control here. Perhaps you are the servant out there, but in here only the rules of the Palace apply. If you wish it, I will be your Master. But only because that is your desire.”
“I…” Pegasus drifted off into silence, and slowly nodded.
Chimaera drew him close, and held Pegasus tight, until he began to relax the slightest bit. Eventually he began to press kisses to that pale flesh, a variety of them to whatever he could reach. Whisper-soft kisses to his cheek, a lap to his neck just above the collar, a firm kiss to his shoulder; over and over again he kissed Pegasus. Never pressing, only soothing, until Pegasus relaxed completely against his. “Rest, Pegasus.”
With a soundless murmur of acquiescence, Pegasus did as he was bid, head resting against Chimaera’s shoulder. When he was certain Pegasus was fast asleep, Chimaera bundled him into his arms and carefully stood. With a thought he banked the fire, then carried Pegasus to bed, stripping away the fireside blanket before tucking him beneath the sheets and duvet.
Pegasus was dead to the world. Chimaera smiled. His memories of the gods were not happy ones. How one such as Pegasus was born from the likes of the Pantheon, he didn’t know. The gods were fools indeed to so maltreat such a fine being.
And how strange his own sudden possessiveness. He looked up at the paintings on the wall – the fierce chimaera snarling across the way at Pegasus and Bellerophon. How Bellerophon and Chimaera seemed almost to vibrate with battle lust, while Pegasus merely seemed to want to protect his Master. He had examined the paintings thousands of times, between reading books, always eager to understand that much more about his room, his new life.
What would it be like to have that sort of devotion? To know the man – or horse or whatever – beside you not only wanted to serve and protect you, but needed to. Lived solely for that? To do whatever you wanted…
It was easy to see why Pegasus had been so foully mistreated. How heady, to know you so completely owned someone that way. Bad enough to be a Key who must do as he is bid…Chimaera’s eyes strayed once more to the fireplace.
Even now, long after the room had been cleaned, the smell of his own blood and the burning of the bastard’s flesh filled his nose. Every servant had his limits, and that Master had gone well past his. They did not send that sort to him anymore.
How much worse it must be for Pegasus.
Chimaera sat at the edge of the bed beside Pegasus and reached out to brush aside strands of his snow-white hair, and let his hand linger on that fine skin which paled even more next to his own midnight skin. Before he realized what he was doing, Chimaera leaned down to kiss Pegasus softly. He smelled of the sky after a storm, fresh and new. His lips were soft, warm and pliant beneath Chimaera’s, and tasted ever so faintly of honey.
He drew back with a start when Pegasus responded to the kiss – but a glance showed that he was still fast asleep.
Shaking his head, Chimaera gave himself a stern reprimand and went to fetch a book to read. Though he was tired, something told him sleep would not be coming easily that night.
TBC
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Date: 2005-10-31 05:48 pm (UTC)*huuuuug* Hope you feel less...thwarted? tomorrow ^^ Don't let the lab report win!
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Date: 2005-10-31 05:57 pm (UTC)